It was so good to be with family and friends today, to celebrate the first year of Carson's life, to have a house full of people dedicated to watching him toddle around the yard and throw a ball. It was simultaneously adorable and sad to watch him get frustrated and cry just as it was time to open his gifts. And I almost died of cuteness overload, watching him eat the little cake I baked just for him, wearing nothing but his diaper. It was such a treat, getting to be the official baker of his very first birthday cake!
But today was a hard day, too. It's hard to say this, because today should have been filled with joy. It was a hard day because I was reminded over and over of the dysfunction in my family, and especially in my relationship with my mom.
Lord, you know how things normally operate: that I am the "fixer." You also know how I've been struggling to get out of this role, to let the people in my family deal with problems in a healthy way instead of making excuses for them. You have told me that it is more important to be the truth bringer than the peacemaker. But this is hard.
Things haven't been right with mom for a long time, but I've never understood until now just how wrong things are. I felt like I was hurting her, Jesus, even though I didn't do anything wrong. Why? Was it because I didn't spend my entire time making sure that she felt comfortable and included, like I normally do? Or was it because she knows that things are wrong and doesn't know how to make them right?
I have tried to make her understand that her choices have hurt me deeply, but I feel like she doesn't want to acknowledge the impact she has had on my life. The people she brought into our home, the lack of support, the constant attitude of victimization, the lack of faith in our home, are all things that I have been trying to overcome. Although I feel like I've made good progress, just being in the same room as her and seeing her awkwardness and her aloneness, and the constant accusation in her eyes make me feel like I haven't moved forward even a centimeter.
And when I read the beautiful, moving tributes that other moms write to their children, I begin to feel bitter. I begin to want to accuse her, for not providing the home grounded in faith that I needed. For bringing unsafe people into our home. For not believing me. For not caring about what happened. For housing the very person who hurt me. For trying to make me hate my father. For teaching me how to be a victim rather than how to be a survivor. For not being the kind of mom that I needed.
I am so raw inside right now, Jesus. My heart feels like it's been thrown out of a moving vehicle and is covered with emotional road rash. I need healing for what has happened, and for what continues to happen in my mom's response to me. I need hope for the road ahead, that You will continue the work you've begun in my family.
Help me to remember the good things that You have done, so that I'm not overwhelmed by the bad. Help me to claim Your promise that all things work together for the good of those who love You and are called according to Your purpose. Help me to understand what it means when You say that no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived the good things You have prepared for those who love You.
I am waiting in Your promises, Lord. I am trusting that You will show me how to act, how to love, how to forgive. I am choosing to believe You when You tell me that Your eyes will be on me when my hope is in Your unfailing love.
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